Season 4 Contest
by Salkiethia
Summary: Yugioh pairing challenges. All different pairs with the ship as the title. Newest one is up... Shrimpship, and the scariest pairing south of the Mississippi.
1. Puppy Maybe

**Disclaimer:** None of 'em are mine, yatta-yatta etc.  
**Warning:** Implied Seto/Jou (Puppyship); angst and general melancholy.  
**Claimer: **Detective Kane is my brainchild. No stealing!

_

* * *

_

**Maybe**

_Seto!_

Maybe I should have known.

It shouldn't have been news to me.

I knew for the whole time that I would always end up backseat, second best. It was enough, for a while though. I could convince myself I didn't care, that everything was all right as long as we were together.

He was all I wanted, and all I thought I needed.

I was foolish – stupid of me to cut the bonds that had supported me for so long just to be with him. I don't think I'll ever forget their faces when I told them I was leaving for good.

_C'mon baby – talk to me!_

I just didn't tell them where I was going.

I don't think I could have taken the looks, the surprise and loathing. Loathing tinged with awe and a twisted sense of pride, but loathing nonetheless.

I'm strong. I'm just not that strong.

So, I took the coward's way out. I left, without a backwards glance, without anything to remind me of what had been before.

_Say something – _

I thought I was in heaven. Maybe he wasn't around as often as I wanted, but it hardly seemed to matter. Between paperwork and infrequent bouts of sleeping, I had my time with him.

Maybe if it had just been the two of us, it could have been enough. But it wasn't just the two of us.

The inquisitive slate eyes that followed us everywhere – they belonged to the Number One Priority.

Not me.

Never me.

_Don't do this to me…_

When Number One Priority decided to hang out with the wrong sort – my old sort – of course something went wrong. It always does when I'm concerned.

The two of us were together when he got the call.

Then he couldn't get away from me fast enough.

There was no fire in his eyes when he left. Just a dead, empty nothingness.

I've seen that look too many times. I never thought he would have it.

_Please, don't leave me._

Maybe it was red.

The phone might have gone off.

It probably did.

There weren't any other cars around.

No one crashes into a tree that far off the road by mistake.

_Why?_

Maybe I should have known.

It shouldn't have been news to me.

Backseat is a familiar view for me. After all, I never did come first.

When the sniping comments start up though, I already know what I'll be saying.

It doesn't take much to shake an unstable mind off track.

I wasn't his anchor.

I just pretended I could be.

His real anchor – Number One Priority – died in a hospital maybe five minutes before he went.

* * *

"Come on, son. You can't stay here. The police have an investigation to work."

When the young man didn't even acknowledge his presence, Detective Kane frowned.

"I'm serious. You need to move."

Still no answer.

"I don't want to have to force you – " he began.

The young man's head snapped up, and Kane tensed automatically, as any officer was trained to do at sudden movement.

"We have to investigate this accident –"

"It wasn't an accident." The young man's voice was harsh with suppressed tears.

Kane nodded slightly. "Do you have information on this, then?"

A choked bark of laughter greeted his words. "Call it whatever you want. He's dead because his brother died."

"Do you have any sort of proof of that?"

Apparently, the young man wasn't listening. Kane watched the young man's gaze return to the wrecked carcass that had once been a sports car.

Almost too soft to hear, he caught the words, "I wasn't enough to hold him here."

Then the young man stumbled off.

Kane watched him go, and then turned back to the work at hand. Even testimony from one obviously mentally aggravated young man wasn't going to make much of a difference.

"No skid marks!" one of the other officers called to him.

Kane nodded and set about checking the rest of the perimeter.

* * *

"Good morning, honey."

Kane smiled and brushed his lips against his wife's.

"Breakfast is on the table."

He nodded and snagged the paper from the kitchen counter on his way into the dining room.

The front page was the news story about the death of the CEO of KaibaCorp. He flipped past that, intent on the sports section. After all, he'd covered the investigation; whatever a crack journalist had to say was hardly going to skew his perception of it.

One picture caught his attention about midway through the paper. It was a grainy shot, not very well done and he hadn't seen that face with a smile on it before but still…unmistakable as the young man he'd seen yesterday.

The article was short, just a brief summary the suicide of a once known duelist.

Kane stared at the picture for a while longer, then turned the page.

Maybe the kid had been mentally unstable.

But there was still a nagging sense in the back of his mind that there had been something to read in his behavior the day before.

_Maybe I should have known._


	2. Klepto Traitor's Bluff

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em.  
**Warning: **Kleptoshipping. That's Yami no Bakura X Yuugi Moutu.

* * *

_You saved him.  
I didn't do it for you. Leave me alone.  
For my life, and his, I thank you.  
I didn't fucking do it for you!  
You can never give gratitude to someone who doesn't think his own life is worth living._

* * *

The swimming hole was a secret they didn't share with anyone. It was just the five of them – four if you counted the bodies – and they met there every day in the summer. Sometimes they didn't even take to the water, preferring to lay on the grass over the rocky outcropping that doubled as a springboard.

Jounouchi had found it. Shizuka had named it. Anzu claimed it. Yami fought for it. Yuugi drowned in it.

* * *

"Ya know, it's really a shame summer's almost over." Jounouchi rolled over on the grass, still wet and picking up green stains from the blades his body crushed. Not that it mattered. He was going back in soon anyway. The water would wash away the worst of it.

"I don't really want to go back to school…" Anzu trailed off, wistfully.

Shizuka appeared over the small crest, dripping wet. "Hey, the water's pretty warm!" she called.

Coming behind her up the bluff was Yuugi, his wild hair plastered against his skull. Even his aggressive bangs didn't do much more than poke up a bit.

"Have ya tried jumpin' off da cliff, Yuug'?" Jounouchi asked, scrambling to his feet.

Yuugi shook his head, sending droplets of water over Anzu who protested with a smile. "Sorry, Anzu," the young man replied.

She sat up with a dramatic sigh. "I'd been _planning_ on staying dry this time around." Her smile took the bite out of her words.

Jounouchi snickered. "Like ya can stay dry when it's a million degrees out? If ya ain't sweatin' yer own pool, yer in one!" The blonde laughed and tapped Yuugi on the shoulder. "Watch dis, man – "

With everyone watching, the hyperactive young man raced to the very tip of the cliff and jumped off it, screaming on his way down to the water. Yuugi and the rest peered over the edge of the cliff, waiting for him to resurface.

He popped up a few feet away from the place he'd entered, waving like crazy up at all of them. They all waved back, and watched while he stroked over to the inlet where he could climb out.

A few minutes later, Jounouchi reappeared over the tip of the bluff and grinned. "Ya gotta try that, Yuug'!" he crowed enthusiastically.

Yuugi tiptoed to the edge of the cliff and peered down again. "I think I'll pass," he decided.

Jounouchi shook his head. "Live a little, man!"

"Maybe later, okay?"

The blonde shrugged. "Suit yerself." With a maniac grin, he launched himself into a dead sprint and ran off the edge of the cliff face again.

Anzu put a hand on Yuugi's shoulder.

"You're not really going to do it, are you?" she asked, concern evident in her eyes.

Yuugi smiled up at her. "I'm not the daredevil Jounouchi is," he assured her.

"What about Yami?" Concern again, but something subtler hid under it.

He gave up trying to figure out what it was. "Yami wouldn't do anything to hurt me," he replied confidently.

Anzu nodded. She looked about to say something else, but Shizuka dragged her away, insisting she come see a butterfly that was flittering about on the other side of the bluff.

Anzu went reluctantly.

Yuugi watched her go.

**/You aren't planning on jumping, are you?** /

He sighed. Must everyone ask? **/Of course not, Yami./**

He could feel the spirit's relief, and for some reason it annoyed him. **/Thank you, aibou./**

**/For what?/ **he couldn't help asking.

Yami seemed surprised. **/For not taking risks./**

* * *

_Not taking risks…_

It was late, but he couldn't sleep. The blankets were too warm. The bed was too cold. The room seemed to be closing in on him.

Finally, Yuugi couldn't stand it anymore.

_Everyone thinks I'm just a little pushover,_ he grumbled to himself, being careful to shield that thought from Yami. _Especially_ from Yami.

He stripped out of his pajamas and grabbed a towel.

It was still partly light out. That was good. He would need light to navigate the forest trails up to the swimming hole. The last thing he thought to take was a flashlight for the return journey, but he couldn't find one.

_I could just sleep on the bluff, if I have to, _he reasoned.

* * *

The forest was darker than he had thought it would be. There was a full moon out, but the trees' branches dimmed its light so only the barest specks filtered down through the canopy to the floor below.

One thought kept him going forward –

_If I can do it tonight, I can do it anytime and prove that I'm _not_ the little kid everyone thinks I am._

Finally, he made it to the bluff.

It had begun to drizzle sometime while he had been in the forest. It hadn't been all that noticeable under the thick coverage of the leaves, but now he could feel the cold water on his skin.

The cliff was in front of him. He walked up to the edge, peering over it. The water looked an awfully long ways away.

Had Jounouchi said something about where one was supposed to land? He couldn't remember.

_I'll just do a cannon-ball. That'll be easy enough._

Yuugi backed up as far as he thought he remembered Jounouchi doing. He began to run forward, pumping his legs and arms in unison –

Then skidded to a dead halt about a foot and a half from the edge.

_I can't do this. I can't do this…_

An owl hooted mockingly.

Yuugi straightened up and walked backwards from the cliff face.

_I can do this. I _will_ do this._

When he ran this time, he closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling of the ground to disappear from under his feet. His leg brushed against something, and suddenly he was airborne, the passage of still space ripping his eyes open.

The water was surging up at him quickly. Too quickly –

He hit with a sound like a sickly cross between a splat and a splash.

Slowly, he sank under, his limbs forgetting how to move. A presence awoke in the back of his head when he remembered how to breathe, but only pulled in water…

**/Yuugi! **_**Yuugi!/**_

**/Yami? I'm sorry… I should have listened…/**

**/**_**YUUGI!**_**/**

* * *

_Have _you_ drowned before?  
No, but –  
It's hell.  
You have?  
It's hell._

* * *

He was dying. Water flooded lungs that screamed for air. The realization of his own death had awakened Yami, but there was nothing he could do. There was no way to protect a body from itself – from the crushing weight of water all around.

* * *

The dripping rain drove him into the forest. He hadn't meant to get lost – truly he hadn't. The trail had begun to slope upwards, and he followed it, hoping to find a place to stop. Somewhere he could get his bearings.

In the back of his mind stirred another consciousness. He jerked in surprise when he heard a yell…then a splash…then nothing. He lost track of what was happening as his alter self surged to the fore.

Long legs carried the white-haired male up the last bit of trail, over the side of the bluff. He skidded to a halt at the outcropping, staring down at the dark water, rippling from… something. He backed up, and ran flat out off the side of the cliff, arching on his way through the air to hit the surface in a controlled dive.

Cold water closed in around him. Chocolate eyes opened underwater, searching – there! A small boy floated, suspended like a laboratory specimen. He reached for the boy, catching around his shoulders to haul him to the surface.

Water streamed from the boy's mouth and nose. He wasn't moving – wasn't breathing. Dragging the dead weight, he struck out for the small inlet – meant for climbing out, not crawling.

The rain fell harder, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

Somehow he managed to drag the body out of the watery pit.

Sprawled across the grass, and still the boy wasn't breathing.

Force the water from his lungs – he pressed on the boy's chest. Hard.

More water leaked from the boy, but his eyes did not open and there was no breath.

Aggressively, he shoved on the boy's chest again and turned him to his side. More water…and a trace of blood.

The body jerked then, and began to cough violently.

He drew back, watching. Slowly, the labored breathing wracking the body faded. The boy didn't get up, curling instead into a huddled sitting position.

"Yami?" he whispered.

His voice was broken, so lost. But then a change came over him and he pushed himself to his feet, shaking slightly on unsteady legs. Sharp eyes raked the semi-darkness and alighted on him.

He turned to go, ghostly pale in the partial moonlight, only a specter of himself.

"You saved him."

He stopped, glanced back over a shoulder. "It was nothing. Forget it."

"For his life, and mine, I thank you."

"I said fucking forget it."

He disappeared into the forest, leaving soft footprints as the only proof he'd been there. Leaving the other staring after him, arms bearing the ethereal figure of a limp teenager.

* * *

_Two weeks later…_

"Bakura – Bakura, wait!" Yuugi called, running to catch the white-haired teen leaving the arcade.

"Wh – oh, hello, Yuugi," the other teen greeted, smiling.

Yuugi skidded to a stop. "I just wanted to say thank you," he said in between quick breaths.

Bakura tilted his head. "For what?"

"Yami told me you saved us," Yuugi explained. "I wanted to thank you, but you haven't really been around, so… Thanks!"

Bakura blinked. Yuugi's smile faltered. "You know – a few weeks ago during the thunderstorm?"

When the white-haired teen's expression did not click into anything resembling recognition, Yuugi's shoulders drooped a little. "Never mind," he mumbled.

Bakura put a comforting hand on the shorter teen's shoulder. "I don't always remember everything I do," he tried to explain.

Yuugi sighed. "Thanks, then, I guess," he said in an attempt to put the same lightheartedness back into his gratitude. It fell flat.

"You're welcome," Bakura replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His hand ran through his hair, and reflexively he checked his water. "Oh, bugger!" he exclaimed. "I'm going to be late! Sorry about this, Yuugi, but I have to run." He dashed off, leaving a dazed Yuugi in his wake.

**/I thought you said Bakura saved me./**

Yami floated beside his hikari, frowning slightly. **/He did./**

_I wonder why he doesn't remember?_

* * *

_I keep losing track of time,_ Bakura mused, racing down the road towards his house.

_You ought to pay more attention._

_I pay attention!_ he protested. It no longer felt odd to talk to the voice in his head.

_Oh, really?_ came the snide reply. _Then why don't you remember rescuing the brat? You did, you know._

Had he?

Well, _that_ was food for thought…

* * *

Author's Notes: So, I actually had intended this to be one with Yami having his own body, but then Yuugi didn't want to let go and Bakura was laughing through it all so... Yeah. Kleptoshipping in a nutshell. Hope you liked!

* * *


	3. Ardent Sun and Shadow

Disclaimer: YGO and cherries belong to you-know-who, living you-know-where, in you-know-when. Namely, not me. The Sun and Shadow ballads come from my sis' favored fandom - Misty Lackey.  
Pairing here is Ardent aka, HondaxShizuka

* * *

Not perfect – not by any stretch of the imagination. But perfection, in its own way, would be as obnoxious a task as saving the world. How can anyone live up to the standards of perfection set by someone else? The simple answer is it's not possible, but try telling that to anyone accustomed to beating their failure into dust.

No, not perfect, but – in her own way – so close, it hurts.

xxxxx

Standing on the stage, I wasn't nervous at all. Everyone I know complains that performing before an audience is terrifying. The only terror I feel is the electric shocks that leap from the audience to the stage.

It's intoxicating.

But the audience today is a set of old men, weary eyes watching as I recite lines. Trying out for anything is the most difficult time, because the people are not there to enjoy. They are there to judge. I hate being classified based on the way I stand, the tone of my voice.

It's too much like high school.

Each time a new year comes around, offering another chance at performing, I fight with myself, trying to decide if I want to be stared at, poked and prodded before being deposited in a neat little box, gift-wrapped with a matching bow.

Each time, I can't seem to resist.

That's why I'm on the stage now, waiting for the next quavering command. One of the old men runs a hand through his thinning hair. I can't see his eyes, so I don't have any idea what he's thinking.

"Are you aware this is a musical?" the one to his left asks.

I nod. I've never tried to sing before, but the number of males confident enough to try out for drama is small enough that I thought I'd be a shoo-in, despite the fact it is a musical.

The man on the left has hair that is perfect to a fault. Even this far away, I can tell he's glaring. "Well, are you going to sing something?" he demands irritably.

I blink. They actually want me to _sing_? There's only one song I can think of - the national anthem. After hearing it every day at the beginning of class, I'd have to be ten times as dense as Jounouchi to not remember it.

The first notes drift out of my mouth and I cringe inside. It's a song that seems meant for a high, feminine voice, instead of my lower, not-quite bass.

I continue to stumble through the sliding notes, my hands folded together behind my back. After the final words slip out, I wait; the silence is nearly palpable.

The center judge with thin hair cocks his head. I wonder if my astonishing inability has rendered him speechless.

"I've heard better," Perfect Hair quips. "Considering that you didn't break anyone's eardrums, though – "

Is he smirking at me? It's hard to tell.

"Thank you." The third judge, silent until now, speaks, his voice heavily accented.

I know a dismissal when I hear one. On my way out the door, I brush by a small group of girls, all talking in nervy, high-pitched voices. One of them smiles faintly as I pass.

xxxxx

"Honda-kun! Honda-kun!"

Yuugi's enthusiastic, high voice catches my notice immediately. I pause to wait for him. His wide eyes are sparkling with excitement as he bounds up to me.

The infectious smile he carries as a matter of course has widened to an impossible level.

I want to ask what he's so happy about, but I have the feeling my words would be too sullen.

"Honda-kun, congratulations!"

_Congratulations?_ "For what?"

He floats off the ground with the force of all the energy packed into his miniscule frame. "For making the drama tour!"

One of the bells rings and Yuugi's excitement fades to the realization he's going to be late for class.

I blink as he rushes off. I made the drama _tour_? Not the club, which performs here at school, but the national _tour_? That can't be right.

The auditorium is on the other side of school – close enough to be in danger of getting caught in the hallways. That pales next to my moment of truth.

That's where the cast list will be. That's where I'm going to go, and damn the consequences.

xxxxx

**CAST LIST  
**Abukara Hayato  
Asahara Azami

Goto Katsu  
Higashiyama Yuuma  
Hyobanshi Ei

Imaizumi Hamako  
Yoshizaki Mami

xxxxx

The Cast List doesn't have my name on it, but I don't see a list for the national tour, either. Just as I'm scanning over it again, footsteps behind me announce the presence of another person.

"Looking for something?"

The familiar, taunting voice makes me turn and I glare at the younger, _taller_, brunet bastard. His acid smile invites an attack, but I've seen Kaiba move in sparring matches. For all that he's an arrogant, self-centered ass, I can respect his nearly supernatural speed and precision enough to not randomly strike out. Especially not for so minor a slight as this.

"Cast List," I answer shortly, turning my back to him. I've never particularly liked underclassmen, but Kaiba has earned a special position of dislike. I don't want to give him the pleasure of knowing he is getting under my skin. I think he lives for the satisfaction of putting people off balance.

Oftentimes a curt manner dissuades people. He seems to be the exception.

"The cast list?" Faux-surprise plays in his voice. He moves up, too close now, a hand brushing against the list. "Pity you weren't a poor enough performer to make it." The smirk tugging at his lips dips a bit when I refuse to rise to the bait.

My eyes drift across the list again, not really looking…

"Don't kill yourself with excitement," he adds.

I look over in surprise as he disappears. Another list has appeared beside the cast one. It has 'National Tour' printed clearly across the top.

My name is at the bottom, resting calmly under three others – all of them seniors I'm sure have made the tour before. I think back to my audition, trying to come up with a reason for this incredible turnabout. Any self-respecting student would be beside himself.

I can't resist a silent jab in the air of victory, but shortly afterward, I find myself trudging down to detention with one of the hall monitors. Even newly accepted national tour successes aren't immune to the rules, it seems.

xxxxx

"Honda!" That rumbling voice belongs to Jounouchi. His blonde hair bounces as he runs, Yuugi and Anzu trailing in his wake. He skids to a halt, bright eyes flashing. "Yuugi told us you made the tour."

Anzu nods, smiling. Her face is bright, but no one's can eclipse Yuugi. The kid looks like a freaking light bulb.

"Yeah, I made it," I say, attempting nonchalance. I should have known such things don't work on Yuugi. He seemed determined to be ecstatic for me, if I wouldn't rise to the challenge myself. I couldn't help it – the grin I'd been hiding since my encounter with Kaiba broke through.

"Who told _you_?" I asked Yuugi, slinging my backpack over my shoulder as the four of us began the daily trek from school to the Game Shop.

"Oh, Kaiba-kun," he answers, sounding slightly distracted. I bet it has something to do with Anzu standing so close to him. It's blindingly obvious to anyone with eyes he's enamored of her. I don't often earn points for being observant, so if I'm noticing…

"Kaiba?" Jounouchi seems quite outraged that Kaiba would say _anything_ to our resident midget.

I wonder if Jounouchi knows how firmly attached to Anzu Yuugi really is.

I leave the group at the Game Shop. My home is all the way across town, but I've taken to riding my motorcycle over to Yuugi's once or twice a week before school so I can walk there and back with him.

My bike is my pride. It's black with silver accents and a matte finish. I won't sparkle under streetlights. The engine roars to life under me, and I zoom off, wondering what the next few weeks will hold. Me – on the national tour!

Maybe the judge was gay.

xxxxx

"Stand up _straight_, Honda-san," the director barks. She's a rather terrifying-looking woman, auburn hair pulled back in a tight knot at the base of her skull. She's a dragon in her own right, and the whole troupe is her horde.

"Do it again, and this time, do it _right_." She backs off stage, still glaring. In the three weeks I've been here I haven't seen her smile once.

The darkness of the auditorium is broken by the entry door on the far side creaking open.

Dragon-Lady's head jerks up. "Kawai Shizuka-san – _why are you late?_"

I take the momentary distraction of our director as permission to examine the newcomer. She's slim and her hair is long and flowing free. In the dimness outside the stage lights, it's difficult to tell anything else.

Dragon-Lady stalks over to her and they exchange words too soft for anyone on stage to hear. Dragon-Lady _hrumphs_ in disgust.

"It seems Reizei-san has gotten herself…_reassigned_," she announces, her loud voice crackling over the stage. Behind me, one of the back-up dancers gasps.

"Yes, our dear lead has decided she's too good for the tour," Dragon-Lady continues, "which of course, means our first understudy is now the lead."

There's a moment of silence, then a squeaking, "_Me?_" comes from the audience.

"You _are_ our first understudy," Dragon-Lady snaps. "Do you want to give up your position as well?"

She's onstage under the bright lights before Dragon-Lady can say anything else. I take a moment to admire her. Reizei had been striking, but lacked memorable beauty. This Kawai, however…

"Begin again, from the start," Dragon-Lady commands.

I back off the stage, and the pit orchestra – only a recording for now – strikes up.

The play is a tragedy. It's the meeting of two opposite entities who immediately fall in love. The background singers carry the melody on their strong chords. This part is the duet between my character and the female lead. As the music swells behind me, I let the voice of Sunsinger escape my lips. The silence builds as my part dips lower and Kawai Shizuka's voice takes over.

Reizei had been trained for this part. Her voice had never faltered, never quavered under strain. It was painfully clear why Shizuka had been an understudy. At the same time, the sheer power of emotion behind her raw vocals encourages something more out of me.

She flits across the stage with a set of shadows trailing after her. Not a dancer either, but again, raw talent and pure passion make up for what she lacks in finely honed skill.

"Kawai – get your feet back in line!"

Well, I think it does, anyway.

xxxxx

"I'm nervous." Shizuka's whispers have been the ambient noise for the past half hour or so. I can't say I mind, really. She has a pleasant voice, something I've told her countless times already. She also cuts a nice figure in the form-fitting black dress of Shadowdancer. However, I'm _not_ going to tell her that. There are some times when a man needs to know when to keep his mouth shut. She's already worried that it's too revealing.

The narrators begin their pieces and Shizuka hastily apologizes as she slips off to her spot for the opening. The curtain begins to rise and the orchestra – a real one today – softly enters.

_She dances in the shadows; like a shadow is her hair.  
Her eyes hold midnight captive like a phantom fell and fair._

Then it's my turn. This may actually be the hardest part, despite the fact that it doesn't actually have words. The simple _aahhhhh_ – that sounds like a sigh begins to twine itself through the narrating melody, thankfully avoiding any serious tangles.

_He sings in summer sunlight to the cloudless summer skies;  
His head is crowned with sunlight and the heavens match his eyes._

I can barely pick out Yuugi's obnoxious hair from the crowd. He's in the front row, sitting with Anzu and Jounouchi. I have to work not to smirk. Jounouchi complained all last week about coming to see this, and now his mouth is hanging open like he can't believe his eyes.

_One evening in the twilight that is neither day nor night,  
The time part bred of shadow, and partly born of light,  
A trembling Shadowdancer heard the voice of love and doom  
That sang a song of sunlight through the gathering evening gloom.  
She saw the one that she must love until the day she died –  
Bitter tears for bitter loving then Shadowdancer cried._

Shizuka's startled face doesn't look theatrical at all. It's the first part of our own duet, woven with careful precision among the still-narrating voices. Our first exchange passes, leaving me breathless.

_One evening in the twilight e'er his curse could work its will,  
Sunsinger sang of sunlight by a lake serene and still -  
When out among the shadows stepped a woman, fey and fair -  
A woman sweet as twilight, with the shadows in her hair.  
He saw her and he loved her and he knew his love was vain  
For he was born of sunlight and must be the shadow's bane._

I rise to my feet. It's impossible for me not to gawk slightly at Shizuka. She looks even more magnificent under the stage lights. My awe is not faked.

She extends a hand to me and I bow over it, taking her for a short, twirling dance down center stage. The extras dressed in black, the shadows, come to tear me away as the final piece of narration begins.

_So now they meet at twilight, though they only meet to part  
Sad meetings, sadder partings, and the breaking of each heart.  
Why blame them if they pray for time or death to bring a cure?  
For the sake of bitter loving nonetheless they will endure._

The applause is deafening. Shizuka's smile is radiant as she takes my hand and we raise them above our heads, bowing together to the audience. On impulse I pull her closer and kiss her and I swear the cheering escalates until the building is shaking.

xxxxx

_Sun and Shadow, dark and light  
Child of day and child of night  
Who can set our tale aright?  
Is there no future but sorrow?  
Will some power hear our plea -  
Take this curse from you and me  
Grant us death or set us free.  
Dare we to hope, for tomorrow?_


	4. Apprentice Seemings

Disclaimer: Not mine, never have been mine, probably never will be, unless I make a bazillion from the lottery and buy them. ((More likely I'll fall down the stairs and die.))  
Warnings: Hints of non-con here.  
Additional: This is **Apprenticshipping** ((MahaadoxMana)) for Compy's contest. The poem is _Seemings_, and also where the title comes from. I wrote it. No thieving.

* * *

_How can I protect you when I can't protect myself? Come shelter inside my walls – the glass is fragile and the stone is painted paper, but only I know that. Take refuge. I will protect you, even when I cannot protect myself. _

She is balanced on one foot, arms spread wide for balance, teetering on the edge of the fountain lip. A length of wood capped with crystal and gold rests secure in one hand; the other is empty and open. Perky chestnut mane that never quite seems to please her, if the curses she occasionally aims its way are any indication.

Young. That's what she is. Young, careless. A child.

**Mana.**

Her balance goes, and she tumbles into an ungraceful heap, half in, half out of the fountain.

**_Mahaado!_**

She's cheery, and too much so. I don't return her smile, though I yearn for the day when I finally will be able to. Once she has become less of a handful and acquired more of a sense of responsibility, perhaps.

Even half-dripping, brandishing a magic she is still much too young to bear – she is ever herself. Much to optimistic for these dark times.

Let it be that her faith in the essential goodness of mankind is not a mistake.

**Let's go.**

**xxxxx**

_How can I save you when I can't save myself? Come into the light with me – embrace the stars at the heart of the sky. Nothing can be false if you don't know it's illusion. Take heart. I will save you, even if I cannot save myself._

Reaching out, so far across the sky is the velvet sheet of midnight, dappled with faint starlight under a new moon. The night air is chilled, and she stands close to me – too close – so I feel her shivering as if it were my own. Shadows near to the earth obscure the lights of the horizon, but above us is endless choice for exploration and wonder.

Vast. That space, stretching on. So very extensive. Infinite.

**Mana.**

Whether I have startled her or not remains in question as her body ends up pressed against mine.

**_Mahaado?_**

Even if she was shivering before, her body is warm now. Too close and too warm. Fever seems such an unlikely culprit in the middle of summer, but one can never be too cautious with one's student.

On the morrow, then, I suppose I'll refer her to one of the palace healers. Of course, the gods seem to have favored my student with a sunny personality too disagreeable for any malignant force to live with.

Maybe they will favor her enough that tomorrow she might pass her written exams as well.

**Let's go.**

**xxxxx**

_How can I love you when I can't love myself? Come feel the heated fires burning – a quickened pulse and a flush of cheeks too new to this closeness. It only goes away if you realize it was never there. Take care. I will love you, even if I cannot love myself._

She stands balanced on one foot, sparkling eyes catching the crystal surface of the water and reflecting it. The fountain bubbles pleasingly in the background – inviting her to carelessly tumble in again. She tiptoes around the edge, curious as the temple cats and nearly as graceful.

Waiting. It has a scent like fear. Hopeful, hopeless. Eager.

**Mana.**

She smiles and leaps down from her ledge, flinging herself into welcoming arms, nodding slightly to when I am, watching.

**_Mahaado._**

It is not impossible to be content with this. Uncertainty, worry, and doubt lurk close enough to the surface, but it is possible to learn. Except that I feel the stirrings of rampant power, watching them, and her smile has vanished.

I come into the courtyard and pull my student away from the half-clothed lecher, seeing her dress in tatters and pain in her eyes.

**Let's go.**


	5. Clash Something out of Nothing

Disclaimer: ... Do I look Japanese?  
Warnings: Character death.  
Additional: This is **Clashshipping **((Yami no Marik and Yami no Yuugi)) for Compy's contest.

* * *

_If I'm fighting again, can you forgive me?  
__If it's for your life, aibou, will you?  
__You made the pact with my gods; my return at the expense of my skill. Reborn into this new skin, I am no longer King of Games.  
__Can you forgive me for trying to make something out of nothing?  
I was not made to accept._

**xxxxx**

Yuugi's body lay motionless.

"Yuugi – _Yuugi!"_ Anzu's shrill voice pulled Yami out of his stupor. By the gods – he _hurt._

But Yuugi –

"Dammit, Honda, _do_ something!" Jounouchi's voice, broken and infused with pain forced his corporeal self into motion.

Even if Yuugi was –

But he _couldn't _be.

Honda staggered forward, past where Yami lay twisting, trying to pull himself to his feet.

Every move, every breath – he was on fire, doused by ice so cold it burned. Mind in limbo, body nigh unresponsive, nearly catatonic.

And still rang the mantra, echoing over them all – borne on Jounouchi's lips, Anzu's tears, Honda's arms.

Yuugi.

The brunet biker cradled Yuugi's body softly as Yami watched, fading in and out of his own consciousness.

Closer…farther…closer…closer…

Anzu's quiet sobs barely penetrated his fogged mind. She was standing over him. Honda was next to her, and the half-dead form of Jounouchi cast a shadow beside them.

But where was Yuugi?

No more tears came from Anzu's eyes. Honda's anger-filled countenance felt threatening. The smothered cries of pain emanating from Jounouchi cast a foil to their stony silence until those too vanished.

And then he broke the silence.

A foot in the ribs, a strangled gasp –

All the while tears still shining on Anzu's face. All the while, Honda's eyes still blazing with a mad light.

Yami didn't protest, accepting their anguish as best he could. Impossible to blame them. Yuugi was gone, and it was his fault.

* * *

_I am a thousand pieces of one whole. Unstable, yet unbreakable – I am beyond the breaking point. I am a shattered replica of my own shadow._

**xxxxx**

A hand shaking his shoulder dragged his mind from its nightmaring state. Pulled him back from the realms of the almost-entirely-real to the fantasy land of nothings.

Light eyes – lavender – shown with sinister amusement.

"He's gone, Pharaoh, isn't he?" the static-voiced other taunted. "And they all hate you for it, you know," the voice continued, conversationally.

Yami winced at the reminder. Yes, they did hate him for his weakness. He had attempted to free Yuugi from Malik's clutches, but had only worsened the situation by accidentally transferring his aibou's precious life into Marik's hands.

Naturally, and as Yuugi-tachi had expected, he challenged Marik next, ignoring that the price for his existence was the loss of whatever skill had made him undefeatable. For Yuugi – for his lover, his partner – he would do anything.

He challenged Marik.

The chess game warped into a Shadow Game had reset his pieces as Yuugi-tachi. Jounouchi had been the first casualty – a bishop destroyed by one of Marik's attacks.

And only then did it hit home just how real the game was, when on the sidelines, the blonde had collapsed, choking on his own blood.

He kept the other two safe, mostly through luck. Yuugi was his King. At checkmate, he lost his aibou.

**xxxxx**

The hand gripping his shoulder was too tight – bruising strength, painful…pitiful.

Marik's taunting voice danced its way back into his mind. "Hey, Pharaoh, was he worth it?"

Pointless rhetoric as Yami had his head twisted up by Marik and the other claimed his mouth in a brutal kiss.

_I'm sorry, aibou. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

Nails dug through skin.

"I _asked_ if he was worth it," Marik growled, face so close to Yami's he could smell the other's breath. Strangely sweet for such a repugnant being. Faintly honeyed…like poisoned candy.

Yami didn't reply, gazing off beyond Marik into a world only he could see or sense.

Felt his aibou's soul gently brush against his, one last time.

The gods did not forgive transgressions. Where he was about to go, only those damned beyond measure would find him.

"Answer me!" Marik demanded, on hand switching to Yami's throat.

A gentle smile lit the ex-spirit's face.

"He was always…worth it."

Air closed off, but bruised and battered still, Yami didn't even think about fighting. Why remain among the living when his heart rested with the dead?

Even Marik's maniacal laughter couldn't halt his soul, so long looking for its escape.

_I'm sorry aibou._

_I know, Yami. I forgive you._


	6. Perservere Masquerade

Disclaimer: If I owned them, this pairing wouldn't exist.  
Warnings: Implied non-con, alcohol use; written to So Cold by Breaking Benjamin  
Additional: This is **Perservere **((OtogixAnzu)) for Compy's contest.

* * *

The room was crowded with people, dressed up, swaying drunkenly out of time with the live music. She looked down, holding a chilled glass of wine slightly too red to be quite real.

**xxx  
**_Two steps, three steps, weaving in and out, goal set in mind. Pausing as the people got in the way. Slurred steps, stumbling words._

A cry of surprise made her raise her head. People packed so tightly together only their proximity kept them from falling over…

**xxx  
**_Halting in front of the goal, bowing over a hand. Trembling feelings, hurt hands._

She took the hand.

**xxx  
**Dance with me. Take my hand, that's it.

This land is make-believe. Let me take you there.

Twirl, spin around like the demented angel you are. Let me pull you close. Don't fight it.

I said _don't fight it!_

Come close, my brown-haired beauty.

The mask hides your face, but I don't need to see it to know what you are.

Dance with me.

You're pulling away again.

_Don't._

Little beauty, don't you dare leave me.

I hold you closer, pressed against me.

Hammering pulse, frightened eyes.

Show me how it ends – how this night will end.

Dip in for a kiss, lips skidding across your twisting face.

It's all right.

Show me how defenseless you really are.

You can't stop me, and I know you don't want to. Come with me, darling.

Music drowns out your voice – no, really, I can't hear you. You wouldn't be protesting anyway.

Do you want me?

Any reply swept away on non-existent wind.

It doesn't matter. I'd know your answer anyway.

Come with me darling. To the gardens, away from the party. Into the dark, alone.

Do you hear the whimpers from the corners?

Shall we make some of our own?

_Don't fight me!_

**xxx  
**Satisfied, and you're empty inside.

Tears on your face.

Well, that's all right.

Come darling.

Let's give this another try.

* * *

Author's Notes: Well, this is probably my last pairing. Just thought I'd put something out there - all my oneshots are based off things I've done/had done to me before. From the beginning: pup (friend died in car crash), klepto (I drowned in a lake), ardent (was in drama), apprentice (rather familiar with mild forms of non-con), clash (I've lost at chess with something important on the line), perservere (same as apprentice).  
Anyway, since I'll probably not be seeing anyone else around here, Zhai'helleva.


	7. Nurse Trust Me

Disclaimer: I obviously own them, which is why I'm writing stories about them for a contest and not making mega millions off them. So yeah...disclaimers aren't even necessary.  
Warnings: Alcohol, yuri ((girl likes girl))  
Additional: This is **Nurse **((MaixShizuka)) for Compy's contest.

* * *

**You're haunting me, haunting me as I speak to your brother.  
****You're taunting me, taunting me with the eyes of another.**

_It'll never work.  
__You don't know her like I do.  
__I know her well enough.  
__But never good enough. Trust me._

**_xxxxx_**

Mai heaved a sigh, watching the rolling wave of human bodies moving slightly out of time with the music. One hand rested in her lap, the other on the bar counter, lightly fingering a glass half emptied.

Against her better judgment, she'd agreed to meet little Shizuka here. The girl was young, and had no idea what she wanted. But Mai knew. Oh, yes. Mai certainly did know.

The song changed abruptly, leaving a jarring note in the air too subtle for the intoxicated crowd to appreciate. With the change of rhythm came a change in scenery – a wisp of a girl picking here way through the outermost dancers. The ones spilling off the floor into no man's land. The ones with too little courage to get drunk enough to take center stage.

Mai's sharp eyes followed the girl, barely enough to be considered a young woman. Hardly slight enough to be a child.

Their eyes met, locking over the sea, and Shizuka pulled on that lifeline, following it to where Mai waited. The silence of ear-aching music and drunken laughter reigned supreme to fill the awkwardness of the meeting.

Shizuka's eyes were downcast as she blurted – screaming to be heard over the music – "Will you go out with my brother?"

She would have liked nothing better than to throw her head back and laugh at the absurdity of it all. Instead, she nudged her glass towards the girl, silently offering a drink. After a moment's hesitation, Shizuka took a small sip.

"Why would I want to date Jounouchi?" Mai called over the heart-stopping bass.

Affront appeared on Shizuka's face, and Mai really did laugh then.

"He's loyal and sweet and smart – " Shizuka seemed prepared to rattle off a list of virtues.

Mai cupped a hand across the girl's mouth. "We'll talk about it later. Drink this." The bartender had refilled her glass and she passed it to Shizuka, watching confusing and something much fainter play across her face. Finally, the girl drank, downing the glass as if it were water instead of alcohol.

Mai smiled.

**_xxxxx_**

_It's not what I would do.  
__She's too solid to be broken.  
__I don't think I can do it.  
__When the moment's there, you will. Trust me._

_**xxxxx**_

She watched a haze gather and build. Watched people suddenly move in straight lines, darting like fish from every angle.

Felt hands guide her to her feet. Felt warmth seeping through her.

Smelled the over-sweet smell of honey perfume. Smelled the undercurrents of sweat and excitement.

Heard her own voice slurring out someone's name. Heard the music dip into something slower.

Tasted peppermint, wine and tears. Tasted what she thought was betrayal.

**_xxxxx_**

_She doesn't even like me.  
__Oh, believe me – if you can reach her, she does. Trust me._

* * *

Author's Notes: The thing that comes from me here is trying to set someone I like up with someone else...and having it fail.


	8. WarUnnamed

Disclaimer: If I pinch myself and they still belong to me it's official. pinches Dammit.  
Warnings: knives, blood  
Additional: This is **War **((AmeldaxKaiba))...but though it's from the Compy contest, I'm no longer in it. XD

* * *

_I want to mix our blood and put it in the ground so you can never leave. I want to earn your heart, your faith, your trust, you'll never be deceived. – Emilie Autumn_

**xxxxx**

The red-head bent over Kaiba's prone form, a small switchblade flicking open in his right hand. His left sought out Kaiba's left wrist, dragging it up to balance on his knee.

"Amelda – "

He started at the sound of his name, gaze flicking up. "Oh, it's you." Tight shoulders relaxed and his eyes reattached themselves to Kaiba. Brushed over him possessively.

"What are you doing?"

His head shook a little, asking for silence.

Granted.

Pale hands drew the CEO's forearm up and went to work unbuckling the belts keeping his long sleeves in place.

One…two…five…

He pushed the black sleeve up, displaying an arm riddled with scars crisscrossing like overlapping tic-tac-toe boards. Drew the switchblade gently across Kaiba's exposed forearm.

"No matter what I do, he still doesn't get the message. What's the use still holding on to life, Kaiba?"

Still and silent, eyes closed, Kaiba might as well be dead. He certainly doesn't notice the flick of the blade across his arm, digging a gully to parallel his veins. Slow at first, blood, almost too dark to be red, began to well up, dripping down the sides of his arms.

"Amelda?"

He makes no motion to show he's heard.

"Amelda!"

A small shake of his head. "I'm watching him die."

The red-black puddle he's kneeling in grows and grows, staining his jeans, the thing gray gloves he's got on, the trailing hem of his shirt –

_"Amelda!"_

Soft laughter bubbles. His hand goes out to stroke Kaiba's white face. "Go away."

"What? Amelda – get away – "

The laughter turns cold and he lunges up to his feet, still cackling away like a mad thing. "Go away, go away. I'm watching you die – I killed you."

**xxxxx**

I wake in a cold sweat as my bedroom door opens. I breathe out, relieved. Mokuba heard me nightmaring. His soft steps come nearer and the side of the bed sags a little when he sits on it.

A warm hand caresses my arm.

"Mokuba?"

Gentle laughter. "Not quite." Scentless drug, pressed against my face, making the world fall away in a chorus of _Go away, go away. I'm watching you die. I'm _killing_ you._


	9. Shrimp Trip

**Disclaimer:** None of 'em are mine, yatta-yatta etc.  
**Warning:** WeevilxRex(Shrimpship); language and scary mental images.

**Trip**

This trip…  
It was _supposed_ to have been a get away.  
But…things never worked out the way they were supposed to.

* * *

Weevil poked Rex. "It's hard to tell the difference between the thunder and the planes."

The look he got in return was anything but amused. "What are you, and idiot?"

Feeling rather affronted, Weevil turned his head away, huffing to himself as an airplane flew overhead.

"It's not that hard," Rex growled. "See? That was a _plane_. Plane."

"Yeah, well, I know it was a goddamn plane," Weevil snarled back. "I'm just saying."

Rex shrugged and started poking at the grass. Why the two of them were sitting outside in weather threatening storms, he couldn't say.

Something about a get away, according to Weevil. Annoying little bug.

Weevil didn't seem inclined to talk much, so Rex closed his eyes, wondering again how the hell he'd ended up next to an air field in the middle of July. _Someone's got a whacked idea of what's supposed to be fun and relaxing._

Aggressive peals of thunder broke the stillness. A few fat drops of rain accompanied it.

Weevil said something rather uncomplimentary and Rex tried to fold up the lawn chairs with varied amounts of success as the raindrops became heavier.

Giving up on the chairs in favor of running to shelter, Rex called to Weevil, "_That_ was thunder!"

"Shut up, I know that was thunder!" Weevil screamed at him.

Safely hidden under the cement canopy, Rex raised an eyebrow at the bug-loving boy. "Then why'd you say it was hard to tell the difference?"

Weevil turned his back. "I don't know. I was just trying to make some fucking conversation, asshole."

* * *

"Did you really rent this?"

Weevil nodded sullenly.

Rex whistled in appreciation. "I guess scientific research pays off after all…"

"Of course it does," the other answered, rather too self-importantly for Rex's liking.

He tried to brush it off and made his way into the kitchen.

"Is the food here for us?" he called back out.

Weevil wandered in after him. "I guess so. Try opening some of it. I'm starved."

Resisting the urge to whack the green-haired boy, Rex went digging through the oddly shaped tower of food boxes, jars and cans. "Fancy pears?"

"Mm? Oh, sure…" Weevil seemed a tad distracted.

Rex fumbled around with the cabinets. "Hey, do you think they left a can opener here at all?" he mused aloud.

"Catch."

Rex barely ducked in time to avoid the flying object. "Watch it!"

Weevil wasn't listening. "It stuck to the wall."

"Huh?" Rex turned and scratched his head. Sure enough, the can opener had embedded itself into the wall. "Well, that's weird."

He went to pry it out. It came out after a good deal of tugging, taking a chunk of the wall with it. "Uh – "

Weevil waved a hand. "Ignore it."

Rex shrugged and went to open the can of pears. He paused a bit too long after the lid was off.

"What's wrong?" Weevil demanded.

"There's an odd number of pears in this can."

The green-haired bug lover peered over Rex's shoulder. "Really?"

"Yeah… Two and a half."

Weevil made a face. "That is an odd number. Almost an odd number, too."

Rex dumped them into a bowl, accidentally splashing a bit of pear juice on the counter. "I meant odd as in odd, not odd as in…"

"Odd?" Weevil inquired, an evil grin plastered across his face.

"Yeah," Rex replied, frowning. "That…didn't really work." He tried again. "Well, I meant odd as in strange, not odd as in odd numbered."

There was a slight pause as he considered that.

"That didn't really work either…"

* * *

The TV was blaring. Weevil insisted on keeping it at a minimum volume of ear shattering. For his part, Rex found he didn't mind all that much. It wasn't as if there were people to complain about noise pollution, anyway.

They were watching the History Channel.

Rex tripped over a pile of magazines on his way in through the door, bearing a bowl of popcorn. The popcorn went flying, and he fell into the chair Weevil had designated as Holder of Remote. The remote magically became airborne, and Rex stared in fascination as it arced upwards…and smashed against the wall.

The little compartment with batteries popped off and landed.

The TV itself had gone silent.

"Oh, great – you hit mute before you broke it," Weevil growled, brushing popcorn off himself and dropping to all fours to start searching for the remote and its batteries.

Rex cursed and set down the mostly empty popcorn bowl to join him.

"Shit – well, here's the remote," the green-haired boy said sullenly, dropping it back onto the chair cushion. "But the batteries are still missing."

Rex frowned. "Wanna just turn it off then?"

Weevil shook his head, and crawled back to the sofa, taking it up with his full body. "No. _You_ are just going to have to explain what's going on, is all. Like – " A picture flashed up on the screen. "Who's that guy?"

The picture was gone by the time Rex turned around to look at the screen. "What guy?"

"They were talking about him before," Weevil said. "The one who went across the ocean in a plane. His first name is the same as that other guy who thought he was a monkey."

Rex furrowed his brow. Names…just on the tip of his tongue –

"Oh, him…"

"Yeah, with the islands and the turtles."

After a long moment, Rex shook his head and went to turn the TV off. "I have no idea who the hell you're talking about."

* * *

The airplane was frozen on the tarmac. The airplane pilot had said something about faulty steering. Weevil was attempting to fall asleep.

Next to him, Rex was puzzling a few things out. Finally, he reached over to poke Weevil back into the realm of the conscious.

"What?" the other snapped.

"Quick question – how do you make purple?"

Weevil glowered at him. "Blue and red."

"Okay, that's what I thought," Rex replied, going back to his picture.

A deep glare migrated onto Weevil's face. "Is that the only reason you woke me up?" he demanded.

"Pretty much."

A smirk replaced the glare. "What, did you fail kindergarten?"

* * *

'_Well, I've pressed a few buttons, and I think we've got the steering under control for the time being. Please strap in, folks, and we'll be off shortly.'_

The plane began to taxi down the runway.

"Rex, are you awake?"

He nodded in response, but left his eyes shut.

"I was wondering…" Weevil trailed off.

After a moment, Rex opened his eyes. "Wondering what?"

"Just…wondering how everyone else is doing, I guess," the bug lover admitted, sounding a touch embarrassed.

Rex closed his eyes again. "Probably fine. Why?"

"If what I heard before I left was true, Yami's asked Kaiba out."

He sat bolt upright, staring at Weevil. "You're joking."

A smirk graced the other's face. "Not about this, I'm not. I overheard Yuugi telling Anzu."

Rex shook his head. "Forget about it. They can be whores together."

"Each other's whores," Weevil agreed.

That brought up a weird idea…

"Wonder if they can pay each other?"

Weevil blinked. "That'd be…interesting." He paused, thinking. "What if one charged more than the other?"

"Trust fund," Rex supplied.

Weevil squelched an unmanly giggle. "Or something like, 'I'll sleep with you if you do the dishes.'"

Rex snorted and closed his eyes. "I'll sleep with you if you paint the bathroom."

The woman next to them, across the isle had put her hands over her son's ears. "Please, stop being so vulgar," she stage-whispered at the two of them.

Rex opened his eyes yet again and felt Weevil leaning against his shoulder.

In unison, they answered, "Fuck off."


End file.
